Chicken Soup for the Mercenary's Soul
by Baby Kat Snophlake
Summary: Writing exercises to improve writing and the meager Father/Son fluff section that seems to be bare bones. After all, don't we need more innocent happiness on this site?
1. Chapter 1

** EDIT-A/N (3-21-2010):** For those who have already reviewed, thank you, I truly appreciate your feedback. But if you are new to this story, please do not review unless you have **constructive criticism** to give me. I don't want to be told how good I am or how much I sucked if you don't have a reason for saying so. I'd rather you say nothing at all if you can't tell me why you liked or hated something. If I am out of character, if my writing sucks, if my plot sucks, if my description sucks, if my dialogue sucks, if my style sucks, if my vocabulary sucks, if I'm not interesting you, if I put in a deal-breaker, if I irritated a pet peeve, if I am missing something, if I don't meet expectation, if you think I have potential but have too much to say, if you wish I had done something--anything-- differently, if you just plain hate what I've done with a character, plot, action, description, suspense, if I failed at an attempt at using a writing tool, if I have spelling errors, if I repeat words, if I use the wrong word, if the first sentence didn't grab your attention and you want to hit the back button, if I have grammar errors, or any kind of errors at all for that matter, if something is wrong or doesn't feel right and you just can't put your finger on it, if you hate my title or summary, even if all you can say is, "you want to know why, but I'm not sure so I can't tell you. It just doesn't work" **with a copy of the quote that doesn't work for you**, please do me the honor of telling me so, even if it's in the form of an email, PM, or review, I don't care how you do it, just tell me. Yes, I am begging for concrit. But please don't leave feedback that simply says "that was good. Nice job." I want to know the **why**. Thank you.

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**Chicken Soup for the Mercenary's Soul**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

The fire learned many secrets, but it was to be doused in the morning before it could tell anyone anything. At its birth, the fire barely lit up a face hidden by a chunk of bangs covering an ever watchful eye. The body was a shadow no matter how brightly the fire burned. All the fire had managed was to sit in its pit and crackle taunts in the mercenary's direction.

What if Lloyd woke up? The mercenary paused, his hand only inches from Lloyd's face. He pulled back and the fire's reflection danced in the small windows of his eyes. The fire seemed to laugh harder than before as if it knew Kratos was blaming it for his lack of courage. Kratos sighed. His eyes softened as he watched Lloyd sleeping soundly, untouched. Of course it wasn't the fire's fault Kratos couldn't tell Lloyd his secret. The only thing the fire could be blamed for was scaring away the darkness with its flickering, and even that was unfair. The fire never asked to be born at night.

Kratos certainly couldn't blame the stars either. They seemed to multiply each night, each one twinkling at a different time. They were encouraging him to shake the boy's shoulders until he snapped awake, just so Kratos could show him the locket that Kratos wore around his neck. Then Lloyd could make his own assumptions. Lloyd could stare down at the locket, shocked from the disbelief, and then look up into Kratos's eyes and know it was true. Lloyd could wrap his arms around Kratos's waist and finally understand why Kratos had wanted him to stay home.

But even as Kratos watched his fantasies unfold, he knew that's all they were. Lloyd was surely dreaming about the destruction of the Desians who killed his mother. And the dwarf who adopted Lloyd would be the one to welcome him home while Kratos wasn't even in the dream at all except as the target for the boy's unleashed anger and frustrations. Kratos tried to envision the happy ending he lost moments ago, but he quickly realized that staring at his son's body in the firelight was as happy as his situation was ever going to get. Even if they spent the next ten years on this journey, Kratos doubted Lloyd would ever accept him as his father.

He knelt at the boy's shoulders finally daring to pull wild bangs from Lloyd's face and he smiled. Lloyd hadn't moved. Looking down at the same young face brought back memories of a boy who would sleep against mom and dad's body and mutter unintelligible words as if telling a story with no ending. The last thing Kratos had always told him had received a reply whether Lloyd was awake enough to understand it or not. He wondered if it was still so.

"I love you, Son."

After fourteen long years believing Lloyd had been killed at the hands of the Desians, it was hard to believe Kratos would have found any kind of happiness in anything. Even the fire's cackling was silenced. Even after fourteen years of going without his bedtime sentiment, Lloyd still replied, "I love you too, Daddy."

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A/N: I am working on writing short exercises to improve my own writing little by little. This piece was written for invoking emotion in the reader and to learn to convey the emotions of the characters themselves. I hoped to accomplish by using external objects to help identify with what Kratos was feeling and the words themselves were chosen specifically. Reader feedback is the best way for me to find out whether I've succeeded or not, and to learn from what works and what doesn't. If you like it, and felt a tug on a heartstring, tell me why. If you don't, and were completely bored, tell me why. There is no other way for me to improve.

Thanks! :D

--Kat


	2. Chapter 2

**Chicken Soup for the Mercenary's Soul (More practice-shots)**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

**1.)**

Kratos concentrated on the bird's trilling until it was too loud. Even the stream whispered beneath his feet, drowned only by the intermittent tunk of boots on wood. He heard ears perk; he felt eyes fall on him as a stiff odor of rotting fur welcomed him to Lloyd's home. Suddenly the trees became walls, and the translucent spirit of his faithful companion of old clacked nails against metal as he ran, tongue lolling, foul breath reeking, and heavy waterlogged feet left tracks of sweet manure all over Derris Kharlan.

The stench burned his nose, but it was worth it to remember the only animal that had ever been attached to Kratos. He felt the giant paws slapping his shoulder until he was forced to land on his back and accept into his lungs the thickness of awakened dust. He felt a wet tongue scraping his face in one lick like gravel after a fall. It wasn't until he was coughing when he realized he wasn't imagining it.

Fur as rough is pine needles tickled his cheek and the weight felt heavier than any burden he had to bear, but he wrapped his arms around the only constant happiness that seemed to appear over the years. Where once, the neck had been greasy feathers, picked at by a beak and ripped of bugs, now was salty fur, oily from lack of bathing in the river. The air tasted of a loyal friend long ago lost and no longer so.

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**2.)**

The headstone certainly wasn't smooth. It didn't have a perfect shape to it. The words were carved by an amateur who couldn't read let alone spell. Even the flower at its base lacked the beauty of a rose. Instead, it hung from a limp stem, dropping petals as if it were autumn. Maybe lying it down would help it look less pitiful, but nothing short of resting above Anna's ear would bring this flower back to vigor. If it wasn't the prettiest thing on the site, he would've felt the flower was himself.

Kratos knelt closer. The letters were crooked, and when he ran his hand across them, he felt the uneven valleys and mountains created from an unskilled chisel. This headstone should've been his. It certainly didn't fit the woman who was buried there. She wasn't rough, lopsided, or uneducated. She had the warmth of a gentle hand that somehow Kratos could feel touching his cheek. Only the wind could be messing with his hair, carrying that familiar scent of flowers, sweat, and love. It had to be the wind. Because Anna's love wouldn't detect him sitting there, right?

But even the headstone was warm. He didn't have to touch it to feel it blanketing his heart. He could've curled up right where he was, basking in it. But that had to be the sun. Only a sun would be powerful enough to heat a stone even from behind clouds. The sun was just being choosy about which stone to heat for certainly the stone on his hand wasn't leeching any warmth. It stayed as cold as it always had. If ice didn't melt, he would know what to call the damn thing.

The stone on his hand was a beast hidden beneath a peacock outer shell. It even sat perched proudly upon a shiny black ore. It didn't have the safety of arms wrapping around his shoulder. It didn't have a sweet smell of nature with an air light enough to let him breathe. It echoed ill-wishes of death and hatred…

Yet the flower hadn't wilted at Kratos's touch. Surely that was Anna's blessing.

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**A/N 1.) :** This one was written to practice the senses. I tried to focus more on everything but sight. With my lack of my sense of smell, I have to make do with what I can. What do you think? Can you clearly "feel" the scene or does it just not feel right? Thanks for your input! :D

**A/N 2.) :** This one, I tried to mix what little bit I learned about imagery. You can find some external elements, some senses, and I tried for some "back-door technique" skills meaning, instead of telling you about an object with "what it is", I tried showing you the object with "what it isn't" for a better picture. Did it work? All opinions appreciated! Thanks so much!

PS: I'm using Kratos because I feel like I need to practice with him a lot more to fully understand his character. I need to figure out what makes this guy tick before I can learn to quit using him as a more violent, outraged person I keep claiming he is. o.o

--Kat


	3. Chapter 3

Welcome back! Yeah, it's been a while since my last writing, but oh well. I have another piece that I wrote about Martel and Anna because using it for Kratos would be the exact opposite of Chicken Soup. If the mercenary isn't getting his Chicken Soup, it isn't about him, and therefore won't be posted here. But I was curious if you'd mind if I put it here anyway seems as these stories are practices in different techniques and improvements.

Anyway, this piece here is an exercise in 1st person PoV where the person who is speaking (ie Kratos) is saying one thing, but the reader is supposed to feel he means the exact opposite. It was inspired by the scene in the game where Lloyd and Kratos were in Triet talking about Noishe.

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**Kratos and Noishe**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

I never wanted a pet. They needed fed, groomed, and protected. Some of them even wanted love and affection. You couldn't just let it roam free somewhere so the only other option was locking it up and cleaning up after it. You had to make sure it never bothered the neighbors, never peed where it shouldn't, never dug up any flowers, or otherwise caused other havoc. Every time it did, you were always the one responsible. Why would anyone ever want a pet?

The only time I can ever see the use for one was when you needed to travel long distances very quickly. Horses were very much pets, but at least they actually worked for being cared for. I don't need a horse anyway; my wings are good enough to get me anywhere I want to, even to places I couldn't get to with a horse. And then if you have a pet, you always have to worry about it. I didn't need anything extra to care for or worry about.

I never imagined that a monster would actually decide that I should be the one to call it a pet. It was a four legged beast with ears spanning more area than all four paws combined. Its tongue was longer than its bushy tail and most of the water the animal drank remained hung from its teeth, only deciding to fall off when the beast stood over me in the morning. Then it would wag its tail as if happy it had managed to cover me in slime.

I tried shooing the thing away, but it followed me everywhere. It wouldn't matter if I tried to ditch it by crawling out the back door of a building. The moment my feet hit the dirt, it was right there as if some radar had been activated saying, "Kratos has exited the building! Go around back and find him!" I'd even tried flying away, but somehow that never seemed to work either. I swear that beast had a better nose than a shark.

Worst of all, why did that thing follow me around when it could obviously take care of itself? It could find its own food but then always came around to bum some off of me. It had plenty of hair to keep warm but then it curled up next to me stealing half of my bedroll. It always felt like rubbing up against me, depositing filth, hair, and its horrible stench on my clothes. And then it would bathe itself in the river, roll in mud, and leave paw prints on my chest with the insistence that I join in.

I never did learn to tolerate that thing. Even after I thought he passed away. But then I found that he was still alive, penned up by a kid outside of Iselia. I don't know why that animal was so happy to see me. He wagged his tail and woofed, nudging his nose against my hand. I petted him, but just the one time. I never did want any pets. They were always so much trouble and required so much attention and you never got anything good out of them. I'd rather be lonely, freezing under the stars than sit with Noishe, the animal that could make even Flanoir feel like Triet. I'm getting tired of those early morning baths, cold, wet nose-kisses, the scent that he keeps covering me with, and the pawprints that decorate me. I can't wait until this journey ends. I prefer being alone. Or at least, the only human there.

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I wanted it to feel more contradictory towards the end so you can feel the transition better. I used tactics to turn what was unpleasant before into something that I think gives you the feeling Kratos doesn't find it so unpleasant anymore. What do you think?

--Kat


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, Baby Kat Snophlake decided to write a Thanksgiving special as her next "chapter". But seems as it still qualifies as Chicken Soup for Kratos, I decided to put it here instead of turning it into its own story. Enjoy!

**ToS Turkey Day Special**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

Year after year Kratos had watched everyone else celebrating a day to be thankful for everything they had. There were only a few years that he joined in the celebration, but after the loss of his family, there was nothing else to be thankful for. He supposed he should be thankful for his life, but it wasn't like death was forthcoming. This year wasn't supposed to be any different.

But it was. Allies sat around a campfire enjoying their humble meal while he sat in the shadows and watched. He could tell them he was there, but he knew he was unwanted. They thought he was the enemy, definitely not one to be trusted. What couldn't be trusted was Kratos's façade. He wanted to tell them he was actually trying to help them. He wanted to explain that he was worth far more to them as an insider of Cruxis than as another sword in battle. But mostly, he wanted to tell Lloyd, the seventeen year old group leader, that Kratos was his father.

"What are you thankful for, Raine?" Sheena asked.

"My brother and I are still alive." Raine replied. Life. Kratos supposed everyone else could be thankful for that. "And that ruins still exist. And books."

"Stop her before she goes through everything." Genis, her little brother, said to which everyone laughed. Even Kratos managed a smile from his hiding spot.

"Well then, how about you, Genis?"

"I suppose I'm thankful for my fireball spell. Without it, I couldn't burn Zelos every time he made a stupid comment."

"Hey! That was uncalled for!"

Sheena snickered behind her hand. "No, I think I'm thankful for that too. And my money bag."

"Sheeeenaaa."

"What about you, Lloyd?" Raine asked. "What are you thankful for?"

"You guys." He smiled. Even Zelos quit whining long enough to stare at him.

"Well, that's a bit mawkish." Zelos said.

"I'm not mocking anything!"

"No, Lloyd, it means that it was too sentimental." Raine said.

"What? I can't be thankful for my friends? Thanks a lot guys."

"Zelos is… cold-hearted."

"Preseaaa."

"So, Regal, how about you?" Sheena asked.

"I'm thankful for the prosperity of the Lezareno Company. And for my memories of Alicia."

"Ew, he's more sentimental than Lloyd is."

"Shut it, Genis!"

"You know, I'm curious." Raine was looking at the sky. Kratos followed her eyes to the Tower of Salvation reaching into the clouds. "I wonder whether Cruxis or the Desians celebrate being thankful?"

"No way, they don't have hearts." Sheena hissed.

"I think Kratos does," Lloyd said, earning a lot of weird looks. Kratos watched his son with earnest. Did he really think so? "I don't know what he'd be thankful for, but he helped us before. He can't be so heartless as to have nothing to be thankful for."

"Hmm, you're right." Sheena said. "Before he betrayed us I thought I saw some good in him. I wonder what he would say?"

"Probably that he's not one of us." Zelos said. "What? Who would want to be one of us? We're a cocktail of outcasts, thieves, treasonous fugitives, and murderers." Silence. Presea was the only one who didn't decide looking elsewhere was more interesting. But Zelos's words couldn't be farther from the truth. Of course Kratos wanted to be one of them. Kratos wanted more than anything to save the world at his son's side, but without Lloyd knowing about his father, that was impossible. Though Kratos could think of one thing he was thankful for. Whether the others knew it or not, it didn't matter.

Lloyd was alive.

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Actually, I didn't use an exercises. I just took five minutes and wrote it. Yeah...

--Kat


	5. Chapter 5

Quick A/N: This was written to spare my life from what I did in Flight of the Jellyfish. Enjoy! -disappears-

**Flight of the Falcon, Repent, Kitteh! For Sagie Shall Strike!, or What You Will  
**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

'_If you're going to keep the boy, he'll learn to serve me. Teach him to fight, but he'll die if either you or he turns blade against me.'_

Toys had been forbidden in Derris Kharlan as was laughing, crying, or any other noise for that matter. A child's fingerprints discovered on anything that contained blinking lights or moving parts would always result in punishment. That meant there was very little for an only child to do that was fun. Not that having fun was allowed anyway. There were only two things that Lloyd discovered he could get away with that were fun. The first was Kratos throwing him into the air and catching him again in the hopes of teaching him to properly fly… as long as Lloyd remained quiet. Naturally Lloyd never bothered trying to flap his wings as he didn't want to lose the sport of being thrown. Kratos neither seemed to notice nor care.

The other form of entertainment was wandering Derris Kharlan. Not that he was allowed to do it by himself. Lloyd had already been conditioned not to speak any louder than his lowest whisper, and that only helped him to sneak around Derris Kharlan undetected. And while Dad was in a meeting with the rest of Yggdrasill's underlings, Lloyd had been told to stay put, he never would for long because it was always boring in the room by himself with only swords and blankets. The angels never offered any company. They were all mindless and serious and not to be touched or bothered.

In exploring Derris Kharlan, Lloyd found a new passage through an emergency escape elevator, down a few flights of stairs, and his hands left fingerprints on many hallways, knobs, and doors. He wandered for so long, he wondered if Yggdrasill would hear him if he screamed, but he didn't dare test to find out. He wasn't even supposed to be down this far without his father. He stepped out into a hallway and his whole body was raised off the floor. He fell forward, and gasping, he tried to support himself on his hands and knees. The floor was several feet below him, therefore way out of reach.

He panicked, grabbing for fistfuls of air, spinning in all sorts of circles until finally he withdrew his wings from hiding and flapped madly. He soared through the air, his hands waving out in front of him, and the thought occurred to him that this was how it felt to fly. He was no longer scared, but curious. His wings propelled him across the room where he kicked off the wall and zoomed off another direction.

This time he was Aska, spreading his wings, and small translucent wings emerged from Lloyd's back, flapping. With as many times as his father, Kratos, had tried teaching him to fly, it was now that Lloyd finally put some effort into it and managed it. He figured out he could change directions by folding a wing and flapping the other. He was even flying upwards now! He could fly down when he tried…

He tried going in circles, spinning his body so he could see the ceiling then the floor, and maybe the walls all around him. What he finally saw made his heart stop.

Kratos stood in the doorway wearing a severe look of disapproval. With effort, Lloyd dived to the ground but couldn't stay there for the anti-gravity of the room made it impossible. He flapped his wings albeit slowly. He knew better than to disobey, but he wasn't in a hurry to stand at his father's side. Once he reached the doorway, Kratos took the boy's hand, pulling him back into the hallway.

"Follow me." Kratos said.

Lloyd's feet touched ground and his wings were folded against his back. He knew that he was in trouble for straying so far but… to be supported by his wings not his legs was such a wonderful feeling! And his father did say to follow him, he didn't specify how. Lloyd stretched his wings and flapped madly, rising back into the air. Without the anti-gravity he was unsteady, and he had to beat his wings harder to stay afloat but the feeling was still the same.

Behind his father's back, Lloyd grinned, enjoying the air flowing across his face. He followed obediently feeling less like he was in trouble and more elated that he was flying. He didn't pay attention to where they were going until he realized they were outside. The warm sun shining down on the both of them. They were at the bottom of the Tower of Salvation. Lloyd landed. He'd never been here before.

"Remember, Lloyd, there is no time for play. Yggdrasill wants you to learn how to fight." Kratos said. He finally turned to face his son, withdrawing his blade. Lloyd's own swords hung at his hip for going anywhere without them was punishable. He much preferred flying, but he knew better than to protest. He unsheathed his swords and held them out in front of him, ready for the lessons his father was supposed to give him.

This time was different though… Kratos unfurled his own wings, spreading them out to their fullest extent and he took to the skies with his sword in hand. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Lloyd stared up at his father, confused. How was he supposed to fight in mid-air? Still, he flapped his wings again, rising higher in the skies to meet his father's challenge. Several times Kratos flew in close for a controlled strike, forcing Lloyd to either flee or block. He was subconsciously getting better at flying, but his skills fighting while aloft were shabby. Many times he swung and his misjudgment of the space between him and Kratos resulted in many swipes through empty air.

When Kratos took off, Lloyd followed, chasing him higher up along the Tower of Salvation, his twin swords pointing back behind him. He flapped his hardest to catch up and once or twice he saw his father's face peer over his shoulder. The look was curious. Kratos was smiling. Was he enjoying this new game?

Lloyd grinned, too. This was, after all, lots of fun! Kratos stopped long enough for Lloyd to catch up, so the boy swung again, only striking his blades again the Tower's stone wall.

"Is that all you have?" Kratos hollered from above. "You'll never catch me with such shoddy tactics."

"Shoddy?" Lloyd replied, though not entirely insulted. His father was teasing him and he knew it, but that meant nothing. His father had found a new way to play and Yggdrasill would never have a negative word to say against it. They were doing exactly as they were told to.

Several times Lloyd caught the expression in his father's eyes, and he delighted in what he saw. He hadn't seen this side of Kratos since Lloyd's mother had passed away. He hadn't realized how much he missed his father's playful side until now and he chased him with new fervor. "I hope you can fly really fast old man!"

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o.o Am I okay? Sagie? Does that balance out my crimes?

Oh, and Thank You, V, for the title!

--Kat


	6. Chapter 6

**Where Noishe Goes**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

Every evening, the sun would go down and Noishe would disappear from Kratos's side. When the sun had risen completely at the start of the next day, Noishe would return and curl up at Kratos's feet to snooze. At dusk, the scene would repeat itself. All through the night, Kratos spent his time alone working on Yggdrasill's latest command. So it was no surprise when the sun was beginning to set and Noishe nudged the door open further and stepped out. Kratos watched him go, but wondered for the umpteenth time where the animal was going. He would've believed Noishe was going somewhere for a nap except that the animal was always napping at Kratos's feet during the day.

As it was, Kratos had a free moment and as he listened to Noishe's nails clacking down the hallway, his curiosity got the better of him. He slipped out, following Noishe down the hallway, and to Kratos's surprise, down the portal to the Tower of Salvation. If Noishe had known that he was being followed, he showed no signs of it, or that he cared.

The trip was long, and the sun had set before Noishe reached his destination. Kratos stood on the bridge leading to a small hut where a little boy of about seven had emerged and threw his arms around Noishe's neck.

"Noishe!" The boy snuggled his face into the animal's fur while a stone dropped from Kratos's heart. He had spent hours combing the region for any sign of his son and found nothing but Desian corpses half-eaten by monsters. He returned to Derris Kharlan with a broken heart and never once imagined that his son would have survived. Yet there he was, cuddling up to Noishe, alive and whole.

Kratos stepped closer, his boots knocking on the wood of the bridge until the little boy gasped and hid behind his large pet. Despite the boy's fear, Kratos didn't stop until he was mere feet from him. He bent down, holding out his hand, and said, "Lloyd…?"

The boy peeked out at Kratos, his brown eyes wide. "You know my name."

Kratos smiled then, hardly daring to believe it. This really was his son! Noishe stepped back allowing Kratos to see Lloyd. The child was obviously being cared for, his feet were shod, his clothes had mild smatters of dirt but no holes and Lloyd's hair had been combed recently. Kratos pointed to Noishe, "is he your pet?"

Lloyd returned with an exaggerated nod. "He likes to play all day and as soon as the sun is gone, he comes home again."

"Really?" Kratos said as he sat down in the dirt. He rested an arm across an upraised knee, appraising Lloyd with yet another warm smile. "Because I have a pet who likes to disappear when the sun is going to set, but he comes every morning after the sun is well into the sky. He looks just like him." Kratos pointed to Noishe.

"Really?!" Lloyd gave Noishe an overexcited gasp and a pat on the nose. "You must be seeing a friend, Noishe!"

Kratos laughed. "I would agree, except my pet's name is Noishe, too. I followed him to see where he was going and turns out, he's coming here to you."

Lloyd paused, his face lighting up. "He's your pet, too?" Then Lloyd's became crestfallen and he buried himself into Noishe's fur to cry. Confused by the sudden turn, Kratos scooted closer and laid a hand on Lloyd's shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"You'll take him away!" Lloyd's cry was muffled but Kratos still understood. He pulled Lloyd's face from hiding and stared into the wide watering eyes.

"I won't. He's your pet, too. I was just curious where he's been going these past several years."

Lloyd eyed him for a moment, then sniffed, running his arm across his face. "You promise?"

"Of course I promise." Kratos replied. "By the way, where is your family?"

Lloyd smiled again and pointed back towards the house where Kratos was startled to see a dwarf standing at the door with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression hidden behind a full beard.

"His mother passed away. I don't know where his father is, but I assumed he was dead."

Kratos stood, meeting the dwarf's eyes head on. "I lost my son four years ago. I thought he was dead because I couldn't find him."

"I see."

Lloyd continued patting Noishe's neck as he eyes switched from staring at the dwarf and the new man, Noishe's second owner. Silence fell between them until Kratos finally tore his eyes from the dwarf and returned them to his son.

"So, Lloyd, what would you say if you found out your father was still alive?"

A grin stole Lloyd's face and he ran for Kratos's arms. "So you are my daddy! I knew you were familiar!"

Kratos wrapped his arms around his son, lifting him into the air as he held him close. He closed his eyes knowing that as long as he could hold the boy, he wouldn't have to worry about waking up to find himself dreaming. Then he remembered that he never slept anyway…

Neither, it turned out, did Lloyd. They spent most of the time sitting with Lloyd's back at Kratos's chest, pointing at the stars and naming them just as they did what seemed so many years ago. It wasn't until the edges of the east began to lighten when Noishe rose to his feet and started his familiar trek back to Derris Kharlan. This time, Kratos followed with Lloyd on his shoulders.

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A/N: Meh, I wrote it just because Sagie was bored and wanted something new to read... I hope you enjoy, Sagie!

--Kat


	7. Chapter 7

**In the Sand**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

With the sun beating down his back and his boots sinking so deep they were scooping up sand, Lloyd was losing energy to propel himself forward. Fast. He felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and he collapsed face-first into the sand.

"Need some water?"

Lloyd lifted his head. It was the mercenary again. He was holding out a canteen with the top popped off and enticingly so. Lloyd sat up and tore the boots from his feet. As the sand poured from his boots he noticed Kratos, the mercenary, shake his head. Lloyd sighed and stood up. "How come you don't have sand in your boots?"

Kratos coughed and turned away, continuing his walk across the desert. Then Lloyd noticed the belts strapped around the man's ankles. Of course sand wouldn't pile into his boots. Though slightly embarrassed, Lloyd caught up quickly.

"I wouldn't mind that water now." Lloyd took the canteen and walked side by side with the mercenary. He took as much water as he could hold before handing back an empty canteen. Kratos put the canteen to his own lips and scowled. Lloyd noticed. "Sorry…"

Again, Kratos cleared his throat. "You were thirsty. It's better if you get what you need now."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I had water earlier."

Lloyd wasn't sure he believed it. He didn't remember seeing Kratos reaching for his own canteen except to give Lloyd himself a drink. He thought better than to pursue the subject though as his mind drifted back to the Desians. He still hadn't gotten over finding out they killed his mother and the last few minutes at her gravestone were spent promising that he would avenge her death.

But he had noticed that he wasn't the only one spending time at her final resting place. The man standing next to him had knelt down at the stone, staring at the name as if it was familiar. He didn't know that Lloyd had been watching. Lloyd returned his eyes to what he could see of the man's face. His auburn hair was a veil that hid easily any expression that Kratos might've worn. Lloyd's heart picked up pace as words became trapped at his lips. Kratos seemed in a good enough mood. Would now be okay to ask? Lloyd inhaled deeply.

"Kratos?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you know my mom?" Lloyd watched the older man's hair for any sign of reaction, but he was watching the wrong side of the body. Kratos didn't turn his head.

"Why do you ask?"

"You were staring at her grave. I though you might've known her by how long you were watching it." Finally, Kratos's eyes met Lloyd's. Lloyd was shocked to see how soft they were. "I mean…"

"No, I understand." Kratos sighed and looked to the cloudless sky. "Why would anyone want to guard a grave of someone they've never met?"

Lloyd eyed the ground away from the mercenary. "So… you did know her then?"

"Briefly." Kratos paused. "Very briefly."

Lloyd was sorry he asked. As soft as Kratos's voice was, it pounded painfully in his ears. Lloyd hadn't seen this man in Iselia before, he came out of nowhere to offer up his arms, and come to find Kratos had met Lloyd's mother when Lloyd himself had only stories and a gravestone to remember her by. Suddenly his own blood felt a little more special. At least that was something Kratos didn't have.

"Lloyd?" He didn't answer Kratos. "Do you have any questions?"

It was hard to keep quiet. Was she proud of Lloyd? Was she happy to have him? Did she suffer at the Desians' hands? Wasn't his father there to help her? Did she love his father? Why wasn't his father here now? Would Kratos even know that? Lloyd looked away from the mercenary hoping to hide the tears building up in his eyes. Did both of his parents love him? "Why didn't you say that knew her?"

"What do you mean?"

This time, they shared eye contact. "The first time you were looking at the grave, you asked me who she was. I told you she was my mom and you didn't say anything about knowing her. Why?"

"She has a living son. That surprised me. And I didn't want to upset you further."

Lloyd studied Kratos's eyes more than he had ever studied anything. They were still soft now with a little sadness. "You didn't know I was alive?" Kratos shook his head. Lloyd returned to watching his feet taking each step in the sand. He hadn't noticed his boots filling up again. "And you asked about my father so you probably didn't even know him."

Kratos said nothing.

"Do you think mom is proud of me?"

"A mom is always proud of her son. I'm sure this was true for your mother as well."

Lloyd couldn't help but smile to himself. "Do you know if she loved my father?"

"It would surprise me if she didn't. I'm just as sure that your parents loved you too, as much as you love them." Kratos's voice trailed off, but Lloyd didn't notice. He held his head up watching the blurry horizon. It didn't matter that the distant sand looked like an ocean, and it didn't matter that he would never reach it. All that mattered was that he now had assurance. Anna had always loved her husband and her son and now Lloyd knew one of her friends. He felt content knowing he could ask Kratos anything and somehow, whether it made sense for him to know or not, Lloyd would get an answer and know it was true.

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A/N: Oh man, I know I posted about Triet in the Tall Tales but you know what? I found this... it was something I wrote months ago before the terror known as my brother's boomeranging kidlets arrived in March. I found it today as I was looking for something to work on. I liked it, so I posted it. Enjoy!

--Kat


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** This was another exercise written for The 500. The exercise is as follows:

1-11-2010

44) Complete one of the exercises for "Love (Parent-child)".

Write a paragraph that ends with Schine's line "a life almost unbearably full, euphoric and miraculously [his]." But in the sentences that lead up to that line, have a [father] thinking about all the maddening things that describe [his] son/daughter, actions and habits that we would not usually consider lovable.

Enjoy!

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**Kidlet Lloyd**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

When his wife was pregnant with their first son, she was grouchy, always threatening him with a ladle and chewing him out for something whether it was his fault or not. When the son was born, he was named Lloyd. Lloyd had a fascination with hair especially long bangs that hung down within reach of his sticky little fingers. He demanded attention always babbling loudly at the top of his lungs, who knew a kid could inhale and screech so much air?! When Lloyd was two and started walking, his favorite game was to run and hide in the most dangerous of places. He was always threatening to kill himself and laugh at the same time thinking this was the most fun he could ever have.

At three, Lloyd wanted to sit on daddy's shoulders so he could play with his father's hair and a brush, always pushing so hard daddy's scalp was raw in less than a heartbeat.

Now that Lloyd was seventeen, he was using wooden swords and shoddy self-taught skills that ended up whacking Kratos accidentally on the back of his hand or in the shins. His favorite pastime was sleeping in class, even on the road, so when Lloyd was asked an academic question, he would scratch his head, look at Kratos, and beg with his big brown eyes for some kind of whispered help. He never did learn that answers from Kratos always led to a book to the forehead from Raine.

But even through all the hair-pulling and hand-smacking, Kratos couldn't help but admire his son. The boy was inept at most things, but there were lessons Kratos could learn from him. There were times when Kratos sat next to his son under the stars and he wished he could tell him who he was. But would things be the same if he did? He doubted Lloyd would want to return to same affection that Kratos had forgotten how to feel. Even so, he always looked back on the fits of screaming, the pounding fists, and the raspberries fondly no matter how much he hated those actions at the time.

He would've given anything to have them back, to return to the life they had before the Desians interfered. A time when it was a battle of wills between a four thousand year old human angel and his terrible two to three year old menace. During the times when Rheairds took the shape of spoons and mouths stayed firmly closed because candy was always better than porridge. When toys came in the form of mud and whatever happened to be in the rotting log or under the rock that Lloyd found first. When bedtime came and the parents wanted to sleep while the child was widely awake, and when curiosity took hold at the most inopportune times such as the time Lloyd wanted to leap in the enemy's path because a grasshopper had just leapt in front of them…Those days, Kratos hadn't realized what he had… A life that had been unbearably full, euphoric and miraculously his.

--Kat


End file.
